Let the Cold In
by Marquesa de Santos
Summary: An incident at the diner triggers Belle into a flashback of life at the asylum. Written for the 50 First Hamburger Dates Challenge. One-shot. Rated for mentions of patient abuse.


Let the Cold in

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_A/N: Nothing graphic, but there will be a mention of electrocution. _

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"And extra..."

"Pickles for Gold, I know." Granny was still a bit gruff, but Rum had paid the tab earlier this week so as to avoid confusion.

If she were to be honest, Belle had a bad feeling in her mouth from the last time they'd tried at the diner. She understood that Rumpelstiltskin had to answer for his actions, she _wanted_ him to answer for his actions, but she wouldn't have felt so dejected if they'd been able to complete one of these things. And Granny had known how much it meant to her. Belle was becoming bitter over this whole affair, and it did not bode well. But at least Granny was in a better mood.

Belle could always tell. If Granny was annoyed, she called him by his true name. To be fair, Belle had never thought of him as Mr. Gold.

She had reflected much upon his name in Storybrooke. Gold. It suited him, despite her preference for "Rumpelstiltskin." Even his amber eyes had flecks of gold, swimming deep in the brown. It made her feel as though she were wrapped in furs. She wished she had one now. The heater in the diner had been acting up and Ruby had only been able to get it to work in the past five minutes. It would get warm, though. She had only to be patient, and gods knew she could be patient. She had waited years, after all. Decades. She could wait a while for warmth to fill the room. Couldn't she? Tears blocked the back of her throat, making it painful to swallow.

She held in the reigns of the runaway thought. No. Not now.

They would finish this date. Of course he would understand if she couldn't. That didn't make her any less inclined to stick it through. Today was a beautiful day. She'd worn a plaid wrap over her shoulders and tights and an over large black sweater paired with the burgundy heels he had given her. She felt elegantly simple and lovely, the burgundy fedora atop her head wrapping it all up together. She was going to be warm and spend lunch with her true love.

"Belle." His voice. There was something about the silkiness of his voice, here. It reminded her of the hot ale she drank during winter solstice in her village to warm her freezing bones.

"Hello, Rumpelstiltskin." She stood to hug him and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. He looked a bit dazed by that. They weren't very open with their affections in public, but Belle was of the firm belief that if she could greet her friends with a kiss to the cheek, so she could with her true love. She just hadn't tried it until now.

Her cheeks flushed when he stole a kiss soft and chaste as he smiled, his honey brown eyes softening into liquid. "Already ordered, darling?" They sat across from each other. Belle thought she would have preferred to sit beside him, but this was nice, too.

"Yes! And I ordered some hot tea. It's too cold for iced tea today." She leaned forward, placing her hand on the table. He took it. His hands were always so warm, eager to seek out the cold from the creases in her fingers and replace it with a simmering heat.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Belle," he began. "Hot tea? With a hamburger?"

"Why?" She pulled her hand away. "Is that wrong?" She did so many things wrong here. She had at home too, but she hadn't been as self conscious. This was definitely one of the times was he would have appreciated not-quite memories so that she could navigate through this world!

"No." She looked at him. The determination on his face mingled with kindness and hardness. "No more wrong than loving a beast. Certainly less." His voice was dark and deep and she relaxed.

"It's been a bad day?" She took his hand from the table, rubbing her thumb over his palm. Workers hands. Nothing like anyone's she'd ever seen; his hands were elegant yet sturdy, and all the muscles were strong. Centuries of spinning. She supposed they'd do that to a man.

"No. It's been quite nice, actually." His knee bumped hers and she giggled.

"I'm glad. I like when you have nice days."

"Is that so?" He cocked an eyebrow and she wrinkled her nose at him, all the while clutching his hand. She loved him. Gods, she loved him. She loved the silliness, the fact that he was opening up. It was small steps, but it was progress. They were laughing when the high wine began. Belle noticed it instantly; it reminded her of the buzz of the electricity machine they used on her in the asylum.

She couldn't breathe.

One minute she was flirting with the man she loved and the next, she was sitting outside on the curb, her wrap pulled tight against her body and Rumpelstiltskin rubbing circles against her back. "Hush now, it's okay, love." He took a purple handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the tears she hadn't noticed.

"What happened?" She asked, shuddering.

"The grill just smoked a bit. The fire alarm went off, love, that's all." He was rubbing her arms.

"I... Rumpel. It sounded like the electric machines." She buried her face into his coat and sobbed. He joined in her rocking motions, hushing her and patting her hair.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again. It'll be alright love," he murmured into her ear.

_fin_


End file.
